Nobody Told Me
by Beatle Dirt
Summary: Clara liked only the simple things in life, being alone and being alone with a book. That is until the day her parents pushed her out the door and she discovered the impossible through a friendship with a young John Lennon. Together they experience everything; happiness, loss, regret, and love.
1. Chapter 1: Introductions

It was one of those brisk autumn days, where the sun is taking it's time setting, the mourning doves are out, and you can smell dinner being prepared at every home on the block. The kind where the day beautifully turns to dusk. The kind that you remember forever.

This was the day I met John, when I was eleven years old.

It was one of those things where my parents wanted me to go out and make new friends. It wasn't one of those things where we had just moved and I didn't know anyone. I knew everyone on the block, (at least by face) because we had been living there for three years. I just didn't feel like introducing myself.

I was one of those kids, the little mousey haired girl who read tons of books and kept to herself. If I seemed snooty it was because I wanted people to think that so they'd stay away. I liked my family, my dog, and my grandmother. No one else really "clicked" with me. Until, you guessed it, John.

I was more or less pushed outside and told that if I didn't go next door and introduce myself to our neighbors of three years I wouldn't be allowed back in for supper. I put my glasses on and buttoned up my sweater, ready to take on the world. Or, the Smith's at least.

From what I had gathered, it was a husband and wife and their one son, John, who was only six months older than me. The wife was snooty, the husband was playful, and the son was rather quiet...sometimes. Our houses were connected, split down the middle. Our home was just a tad larger than the Smith's, which was called Mendips. Mrs. Smith had a lovely garden, and seemed daft about cats. Every once in awhile I would hear the sound of a harmonica coming from next door. And sometimes, late at night, I could just barely here the sound of someone reading what sounded like plays. Some of them were magical.

The boy was rather hard to figure out. He seemed very quiet when ever my mum and his would talk over their gardens. He seemed to just sit by his front gate, petting his cats or reading. Sometimes we'd hear an awful lot of yelling coming from next door, and I'd see John run out to his bike and pedal away. Sometimes I wanted to follow, but inside I sunk back into my own seemingly boring life.

But other times, when he would be with his friends, he would be the most obnoxious boy I'd ever seen, and I'd lived in Liverpool all my life. He seemed to have a leader like quality when he was with them; all the other boys did whatever he asked. At times I was rather jealous of him; in the three years that I had been living here I had made a few casual friends, but no one that was close enough to invite over or at least talk to outside of school. He seemed to have so many of them, and I could never understand how until I talked to him.

I only had with me a green sweater to keep warm, there was a hat on my head but that seemed to be purely for show. My legs were bare, as I had decided in all my great wisdom not to put on socks before I left the house. I shoved my hands underneath my arms and pushed through the wind. _It'll be over soon, you'll be rejected and told to go home. Then you can finish your book._

I unlatched the small black gate and walked forward, taking pleasure in the sound my shoes made as they hit the pavement. The Smith's had one of those "double doors," as I called them, where there was a front door that lead into a glass room, and then another door that lead into the actual home. We had one as well, but I could never be sure as to what door you actually knocked on. I shrugged and pulled the glass door open, right as someone else was opening the other door.

In front of me stood a boy who was six months older than me, who would turn 12 in one month. In front of me stood a boy whose curly brown hair was slicked back into the style that all 12 year olds wore in 1952. In front of me stood a boy with a book tucked under his arm and one sock falling down. In front of me stood a boy with honey colored eyes. In front of me stood John Lennon.

We stared at each other for a moment. I was frozen to my spot, how awkward could you get? I could only imagine what must've been going through his head at that moment. Probably something along the lines of "what is this strange girl doing walking into my house?"

"What's the matter? Forgotten where you live?" he said, shutting the door quietly behind him. "You're next door. Think you could've figured that one out after three years of living there."

The only thing I could think of at that moment was that his voice seemed higher than I remembered.

"No," I sneered and rolled my eyes (it was my best defense), "Me mum told me to make friends, so I came here."

He scoffed and shook his head as he walked past me. He was going for his bike, which excited me a bit. He was going to the place again.

"Can I come with you?" I asked. I was going to make an attempt at being gentler. Maybe he'd warm up to me that way.

John slid his arms inside of his dark grey jacket as he turned back to get a good look at me. The look on his face was not necessarily a pleasant one, he seemed rather annoyed.

"I'd rather you didn't, other people aren't allowed. It's a rule." He started to push his bike pasted the front gate, but he hadn't yet sat down and pedaled away. I took the opportunity to catch up and walk along side him.

"And who's made this rule? I say its rubbish."

"Oh yeah, and why's that?"

"Because you can't just be alone, you need company."

"Says the girl who doesn't leave her room."

I smiled down at the sidewalk, "the dust bunnies are great friends."

I looked back up to see John raise an eyebrow at me, his expression softer. I looked back down at the ground and started kicking stones as we walked. He hadn't gotten up on is bike and pedaled away yet, which was a good sign.

"What's your name then? I don't think in all the years you've lived next door I've gotten hold of it," he said, slowing down a tad.

"Vivian," I said "Vivian Clara Martin. But I detest the name Vivian, so I go by Clara."

John started too laugh then, and I felt my cheeks become red with embarrassment. I had never been made fun of before, at least not to my face. In that moment I wanted to run back into my home and cry for hours. I didn't though, for some reason. And I'm glad that I didn't.

"It's not very polite to laugh you know, especially at something as silly as a name." I said crossing my arms over my chest.

"Well you have to admit, it is silly enough to have a laugh at," he said, playing with my words.

I glared at him.

"Ah come off it, it's only a joke! You have to laugh at yourself every now and then you know. Besides, you can always change your name."

"And how would I go about doing that?" I said, in a tone where you could practically hear my eyes rolling.

John smiled at the ground and then looked up at me, "Well I don't know exactly, one day I'll find out. I don't like my name either, so one day I'm going to change it."

"To what?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said, stopping the bike. "But I'm sure it'll be better than what I have now."

"And what's your name currently?" I said with a smirk. Of course I already knew it, but after hearing him laugh at my name I reveled in the idea of taunting him for his.

John's lips pursed but quickly shifted into the same smirk I was wearing. "That is something that you'll just have to wait for, Miss Vivian," he said, putting on a posh accent as he said my name. "Well, anyway we're here."

I looked behind me and saw the familiar red gates that I passed everyday on my way to school. It was Strawberry Fields, some kind of Salvation Army place, an orphanage or something. I turned back to see a light smile playing on his lips.

"Why are we going here?" I asked, but I knew why. It was the place.

"This is where I think. Surely you must think a little?" He said as he strode passed me towards the gates.

"Sometimes I think a little too much," I whispered to myself as I jogged to catch up with him.

I saw the gates were locked, and I immediately felt left down. Now we would have to turn back, and he probably wouldn't invite me in for dinner at his house, and most likely wouldn't want to come to my home. I had lost my chance at having a friend. I stared at the lock and chain, and felt my shoulders sag with defeat.

"I hate when Burt leaves the lock on, it makes it so much more difficult to get in there," John said, throwing his head back in annoyance. He threw his bike to the ground which made a loud clang, and the proceeded to take a pin out of his back pocket and fidget with the lock.

"Are you allowed to do this?" I asked.

"Well," he said as the locked clicked open, "No one has ever told me that I'm not." He removed the chain from the fence and took a step aside to let the gate slowly open. He smirked and held up his hands, "After you."

"So I am allowed to join you now?" I said, not even trying to hold back my smile. I was being invited somewhere, somewhere with someone other than a member of my family! It was a milestone for sure.

"Well if not then you would have walked a long way for nothing."

"You make a compelling argument sir," I said as I began to walk in. Suddenly though John began running down the path.

"The only way I'm letting you in is if you can beat me!" he shouted.

Challenge accepted.

I absolutely bolted down the path, crunching leaves with every step. For someone who spent most of their time indoors I was pretty athletic, my skinny legs weren't letting me down this time. In no time at all I was right next to John. I sprinted ahead of him at the last minute, right into the field. In the center was a large building which I figured was the orphanage itself. It was very beautiful, small, but beautiful. Its Victorian build matched perfectly with the small forest surrounding the grounds, and the small patches of flowers covering the ground like beautiful blemishes. I feel instantly in love.

John caught up the moment after I ran onto the grounds, and bent over to catch his breath. He stood up and took what must have been his millionth look around the place.

"How do you like it?"

I nodded, scanning my surroundings, "I can see why you come here so often."

"What do you mean?" he said, very obviously confused.

I realized then that he hadn't exactly noticed me ever watching him leave his home to bike down here. What was I supposed to say? _Oh, I'll look out my window sometimes when I hear yelling and I'll see you race down here. Almost everyday. I'm basically spying on you. No big deal! _

"Well, I'll see you come down here sometimes. Like when I'm out with my mum in the front garden. What did you think I meant?" At the age of eleven I thought myself clever for turning the question onto him. I immediately felt bad afterwards, because I could tell it made him think about something he didn't care to remember. But those eyes went hard fast, which would be something I would become used to.

"Nothing," he said. "Just making sure you're not spying on me or anything, making it a point to know my everyday plans." He looked down for a moment and then began walking towards me, "C'mon, I'll show you where I do my thinking. Maybe it'll rub off on you."

I stiffened at the jab at my intelligence, but didn't feel like saying anything back. I crossed my arms over my chest to keep warm as the weather was getting colder by the minute and followed him. It was becoming dark now, and I was having a bit of trouble seeing where he was headed. I figured he was too, because he kept tripping on sticks and such.

"Do you know where this thinking spot of yours actually is? Or are you taking me on some wild goose chase?" I said.

John turned around, startling me at first with his bizarre expression. His eyes were crossed with his chin sticking out, biting his lower lip. It was delightfully disturbing. He mimicked by question whilst making the face and smiled before he turned around to run into some sort of thicket.

I ran over to where he had disappeared and saw a small tunnel of leaves and branches. I did the same as John had and ran straight in, immediately having to duck though as the ceiling of trees got lower and lower to the ground. I was nearly on my hands and knees before I walked into an open area. I stood up and looked around, simply amazed. It was indeed a thicket as I had thought, but it was wonderfully beautiful. The ground was carpeted with a soft grass and the familiar blue and white flowers that littered the grounds here at Strawberry Fields. The afternoon sun hit the tops of the trees, giving the illusion that they were aflame.

I looked down and saw that by the trunk of a tree were a couple of books, tattered, worn, and loved. Coke bottles were in various spots around the small hideaway as well. Looking around this place made me want to stay here forever.

John cleared his throat and stood in the middle of the thicket, and held his hands up high in the air. "What do you think?"

I smiled wide and looked back at him, "It's magical in here, like something from a Disney film! Oh! It looks like Bambi, that's what!"

John chuckled a little as he plopped himself down at the foot of the tree, motioning towards his books. "I keep these here just in case I get bored being by myself. They're all my favorites."

I sat down in front of John and picked up one of the books, "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." It seemed fitting. Another was a collection of stories by James Thurber. I had only ever read his story called "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty," so as I flipped through the book I was impressed to find several pages dog-eared and some lines even underlined. I set the book back down and crossed my arms over my chest again, signaling that I was getting rather cold by this point. It was also starting to get very dark, which unsettled me.

John looked up and furrowed his brow, "Are you cold?"

I nodded and looked around.

He bit the inside of his mouth and stood up; dropping the book he had brought with him on the ground. It was a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's works.

"Well I can't just let you walk home by yourself, its dark," he said as he began walking out of the thicket.

"Thank you," I said.

"Yeah well I'm just making sure you don't get lost."

I followed him out of the thicket and once again into the open grounds of Strawberry Fields where he led me down the path (this time not running at top speed) and to the gates, where he flawlessly repositioned the lock to make it seem as though no one had ever been there.

The walk back home was quiet for some reason; I think he may have been a bit embarrassed showing me his secret hideaway. But I was ecstatic; no one had ever wanted to show me anything, especially nothing secret. John finally stopped right outside of my house and sighed.

"So you promise you won't tell anyone where my secret is, right?"

"I promise, with all my heart."

John smiled at me and extended his hand for me to shake.

"My name's John, you might as well know it," he said pulling his hand from the shake and stuffing it in his pocket.

"Well now I can call you something other than 'the boy who lives next door.' Please to meet you John."

He nodded and looked back towards his house. It was almost completely dark now.

"So we should go back tomorrow, after school. I mean you don't seem to have anyone to hang out with so you might as well."

I was beginning to get used to his way of talking, and invitation within an insult. I didn't even mind that he was making fun of me for my lack of friends; I had someone to spend the day with tomorrow. I had a friend now.

"Yeah, will you pick me up or?" I asked.

Johns face twisted suddenly and he rolled his eyes, "Pick you up? This ain't no date love. Just walk outside when you see me. I'll see you."

He made a swift turn and walked himself and his bike back up to his home and disappeared behind the small black gate and high bushes. I did the same and walked up the stone steps towards my home. Once inside I greeted my parents and told them I'd be up in my room if they needed me. My room was enveloped in the darkness from outside, with a thin layer of light shinning through the window. I sat on my bed and smiled as I reveled in the thought of spending the day in Strawberry Fields. A day with a friend.


	2. Chapter 2: A Day with a Friend

**Hello everyone! Sorry I forgot an author's note last time, it's just been so long since I've done this! Anyway here's the second chapter of Nobody Told Me. I think a lot of you will be happy to know that I've decided to keep working on Bright Are The Stars as well! I stumbled across a long chapter 11 for that story, so I'll just tweak it and upload! I do not own The Beatles or anything else you may recognize! **

I gripped the edges of my novel tightly, anxiously staring at the clock on my wall. Its slow moving hands taunted me as they dragged time on further.

I had gotten out of school about an hour ago but didn't see John outside right away, which admittedly upset me a bit. But I knew he would stay true to his word, so I finished any and all homework that I had quickly and settled myself on my bed with one of my favorite books, "The Little Prince." My aunt had sent it over from France with the English copy and I had read it, reread it, and then read it again an innumerable amount of times; I loved everything about the book.

I was just starting to think that John had blown me off when I heard a tap against my window. I turned around to see what it was but shrugged it off; after all I was on the second floor, the only thing that could possibly be tapping on my window would be a bird or something. I settled myself back into my comfortable position and began reading again. Then suddenly more taps came, over and over again. I sighed and put my book down, but when I looked down my mood immediately shifted. Standing down below on the sidewalk was John, motioning for me to come on out. I waved to him and ran out of my room, and down the stairs. I grabbed a proper jacket this time and pulled my socks up in defense against the cold air. I told my parents that I was taking a quick walk and out I went.

"Took you long enough!" John half whispered from across the way.

"Look who's talking!" I said, walking up and closing the small gate behind me. "You said right after school!"

John shrugged and began walking with his bike, "Well I stayed home today, I can't remember what time school let's out."

"You go to school all the other days don't you? You must know when school gets out," I said.

"Eh, the whole day is sort of a blur to me, I leave when the teachers tell me to. I don't really pay attention to the clocks."

I let out a small giggle, and that was the end of that conversation. As we walked to Strawberry Fields there was little to no talking after that, and I worried that the day would be awkward. I sincerely hoped it wouldn't be.

We arrived at the gates which were opened this time, and John set his bike down on the ground like yesterday. We didn't run down the path this time, but walked down quickly with our hands in our pockets. I decided that we needed some talking between us.

"So how'd you find this little thinking place of yours, John?" I didn't know how else to start a conversation, I didn't know how to start conversations in the first place.

John tried slicking his hair back after the wind had moved it all around, and attempted to fix his ever falling sock before answering.

"Me auntie used to bring me here for picnics when I was younger. But it was always family stuff, you know? Things I didn't really feel like being a part of, so one day I went looking around the place and found that little nook. Been hiding out there ever since," he said.

"Are you close with your auntie then?" I asked.

"I would think so, I mean I do live with her after all," he said as he popped a piece of gum into his mouth.

"You live with your auntie? Why haven't I ever seen her?"

"You have. She's the one who's out in the garden all day while Uncle George is playing the mouth organ inside."

"Well she's the only one I've ever seen there, where's your mum?" I felt as if I was prying, but I was genuinely curious and he hadn't told me to drop it yet.

"She lives down the way, with her buddy Bobby. They get on real well together."

I could sense the harshness in his voice and realized pretty quickly that that is where the conversation was ending. So John lived with his uncle and auntie, it did answer a few questions, as to why he didn't really look like either adult I had seen, or why the stitching on his school jacket said "John L." I realized then that I didn't actually know what his last name was, and suddenly I felt like prying again.

"So what's your last name then? If it's not Smith like your auntie's?" I said as we reached the entrance to the thicket.

"Lennon, I'm John Lennon. Could you imagine me as a John Smith? Most boring name on the planet!" He smiled before jumping into the little tunnel into the thicket, with me close behind.

It was just as magical as yesterday, with the books, the surroundings, even the strategically placed coke bottles. John sat down at the foot of the tree like before and picked up "Alice in Wonderland". I saw him flip to a random page before he handed me the book, pointing to one of the illustrations.

"This is my favorite part, it's absolutely the best," he said, pointing to a picture of a little girl staring up at a wide-eyed cat in a tree.

"And why's that?" I asked.

"Because he says it right here! "We're all mad here." That's my favorite line in the whole book," he said as he took it back from me. "Mimi always tells me that I'm mad, and so I say this line and it always gets her!"

"Who's Mimi?"

"That's me auntie's name," he said as he began reading to himself.

I sat down next to him and smiled as I read over his shoulder, "Mimi is a nice name, is it a nickname?"

"Yeah, for Mary. Everyone has a nickname in my family."

"What's yours?" I asked.

He shrugged, "I'm just John."

I smiled again, "Well I like that. John is a nice name too."

I saw a smirk run across his lips after I said that.

"You know what else a nice name is?" He said.

"No… what?"

He paused, and then he said it.

"Vivian."

"Ugghhh!" I groaned and put my head in my hands. "I told you I go by Clara! I absolutely hate the name Vivian."

"Why do you hate it so much?" He said through a few giggles. "It's your name!"

"You said that you don't like your name either," I retorted.

"Only my full name, John's alright but all together my name is loathsome." He said.

"Yeah and what's your middle name?" I said, throwing it back at him. "Must be ten times worse than mine."

He smiled, "Not telling you. It's a mystery, like I said."

I folded my arms across my chest and gave my best pout, but to no avail. John simply smiled and closed his book, and began rummaging through the school bag he had brought with him. After a little while he pulled out what looked like a journal, and flipped around until he found a page that made him smile.

"Do you want to do a play with me?" He asked.

"Like what, Shakespeare?" I said.

John looked down and smiled at the work in front of him. "Nah, this stuff's ten times better than anything he ever put out. And that's because it's been written by me." He said triumphantly.

"You write plays?" I asked. I thought about all the times I had heard stories and plays coming from the other side of the wall. They had been coming from John.

"Mostly stories, but sometimes they come out like plays." He took a stick and began drawing loops and curls in the dirt. "Mimi doesn't like me reading them during the day or at home at all really. So I come here."

"Well," I said, "I'd love to act a few out with you."

And that's how we spent the rest of our days, acting out plays and reading John's books. It was the most fun I had ever had, and I wished again that I could stay there forever in what felt like a fairytale world. But sadly as before, the cold rushed in and we had to leave. We followed the now familiar path back up to the entrance gate, but before we left John picked one of the small flowers from the Earth and handed it to me.

"They're good to use as bookmarks sometimes," he said before we began our journey home.

When I did finally return dinner was waiting for me on the table, but I ran up to my bedroom and stuck the now slightly wilted flower that John had given me into my book. I so loved the idea of having a flower in my book.

I went down stairs and ate quietly with my family, once again letting my mind wander to tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3: Two of Us

**Hey everyone, and welcome to chapter three of Nobody Told Me! I moved forward in time with this one because I didn't want to spend forever on them being eleven or twelve years old. It's more interesting to read about the teenagers now ain't it? Anyway this is the longest chapter so far and I'm pretty excited with how it turned out. I think there may be one more tiny skip in time but for now we're stuck in the mid-50's! By the way, I included Bill Haley & His Comets not just because it was the first rock group John ever heard, but because the drummer for "(We Gonna) Rock Around the Clock" used to live in my town! My dad delivered papers to him in the 70's! A little bit of native pride there ;) So sorry for any grammatical errors, I admittedly didn't edit this much! But it's good nonetheless! And remember, I do not own anything you may recognize! Enjoy! :)**

_June 4__th__, 1955_

It had almost been four years since I first met John, since I first went to the thicket with him. And in almost four years it seemed as though very little had actually changed.

We still went to the thicket when things got rough, when my parents or John's auntie and uncle were on his case, or when one or both of us just felt down. Most of the time though we'd just go to have a break from life in general; it is simply amazing what a bottle of coke and a quick poem can do for the soul.

So really nothing much had changed, not even the two of us. We were both only fourteen, though John would be turning fifteen in a little less than five months. The two of us were taller of course, but our puppy fat was still clinging to our faces making the two of us look like a couple of really tall twelve year olds. John's hair was beginning to look similar to the other teenage boys in our neighborhood, a Teddy Boy cut, more commonly known as a DA haircut. The fact that his hair was already a bit curly made it work for him. My hair was styled the same, though neater. It was no longer a messy clump of brown on my head. In fact as I had gotten older it had gotten lighter, a dark blonde even. Regardless I didn't attempt anything new, just the same old high pony tail with a bow.

Personality wise we were still very similar; John was still sarcastic as ever, still a bit foreign to me sometimes, but was still into words and writings and drawings just like always. I was the same, although I had found an interest in makeup when I was thirteen (not to say that I was any good at it, it was mostly good for covering up a blemish or two.)

But while I was testing foundation for the right skin tone and finding new stories to read, John was becoming interested in music. For Christmas his uncle George had given him a record entitled "(We Gonna) Rock Around the Clock," by a group called Bill Haley & His Comets. After listening to the record until he had just about worn it out, he bought their single "Shake, Rattle, & Roll" and promptly had me dance with him to the song until we couldn't move any longer. Of course this all happened at his mother's home, as his aunt Mimi wouldn't have "anything other than Tchaikovsky in her house."

About a year after we had first met, John and I discovered something amazing within our two homes: a little door in the wall that connected our rooms. The houses were older of course, so there were bound to be hidden secrets. John said that he had figured that it was supposed to be sealed over quite some time ago, but that some twit had missed it. It was the perfect size for us to shimmy on through.

I remember the when he found it, specifically because he scared the daylights out of me when he did so.

I was sitting in my bed reading, as always, when I heard some pounding on the wall in between the end of my bed and my dresser. I put my book down and shimmied down to the opposite end to see what the banging could be. I realized rather quickly that the noise was coming from the inside of the wall, and I moved back to the top of my bed to cower underneath my sheets.

Suddenly the wall opened and I jumped, screamed even. A slightly dusty John emerged and threw his hands up into the air.

"The center of the Earth! I've found it Watson, I've found it!"

I gave him such a smack about after that, and we wrestled on my bed together for a few moments before John had me pinned down and threatened to spit on me if I didn't give up.

After the tunnel was discovered, John told me that it had to stay a secret and that we had to use it to the best of our ability. For example, it's raining and we can't make it to Strawberry Fields? Just crawl on through the little door and we'd be eh okay.

So this particular week John was away visiting his family in Scotland, and I missed him terribly. I had my parents but John was the one I could really talk to about whatever was on my mind because he understood right away. It was a lonely week, but I was kept busy with school work and my daydreams. And what happened that night on June 4th 1955 certainly felt like a daydream.

It was late at night and I was up thinking. I was fourteen now and suddenly I felt like life was starting open up. After all I'd be eighteen in only four short years; I imagined myself at the age, pretty, rebellious, and happy. I could barely even imagine life at eighteen and suddenly I stopped myself before I could. I had heard a thud from the other side of the wall.

I sat up in bed as I heard my parents coming out of their room, turning on the light in the hall as they bounded down the stairs and out the front door. I didn't like the idea of being alone so I flipped the covers over and ran out of my room and out the front door. When I went outside I saw my mum leaning over the bushes talking to someone.

"Is he okay Mrs. Smith?"

"Oh yes I assure you, he's just had a little spill," I heard John's aunt Mimi say.

I saw my father look at my mother and heard him whisper,

"Sounded like more than a little spill to me…"

Not too soon after their conversation outside, an ambulance came. Now more neighbors had caught sight of what was going on and gathered outside of John's house in order to compassionately spy on their neighbors. I thanked the Lord that John wasn't there.

After John's uncle was hoisted into the ambulance my parents shoved me back into the house and I was told to go back to my room. After all of that excitement? I could never. So I sat up in my bed and tried my best to send out good thoughts to John and his beloved uncle.

The next morning I heard no news about Mr. Smith and figured that it would be rude to ask. My parents didn't talk about it and acted as if things were normal. But I could tell that they were not.

John came home the next day, early in the morning too. I was woken up by the sound of a car pulling up to the front of the house and quickly fell back asleep after it roared back down the road. Then, I woke up once again but this time because someone was shaking me.

"Clara, Clara please wake up," I heard and looked up to see Johns face close to mine, and very red.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up right away, "John what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

John looked at me for a little while before he answered. And his answer, was tough to take in.

"Uncle George is dead."

I sat up right away, this time from shock. No wonder no one had been talking about him, they didn't want me to know and possibly tell John. They didn't want John to know until he got home.

"What?" The word just barely came out of my mouth. I didn't know what else to say.

John sat on the edge of my bed and put his head in his hands. I leaned over to rub his back and pump out a few 'there there's' as he began to really cry.

"It was his liver, from all that drinking. And now he's dead as a doornail, and you know what the worst part is? When Mimi told me I laughed. I _laughed _Clara. What kind of asshole am I?"

I stiffened at the use of his harsh language but continued to try and soothe him. I found it difficult to console him after such a loss when I really had no experience with one myself.

"Sometimes… Sometimes people don't know how to react to a loss like that John. Don't feel bad about it, there's not really a wrong way to grieve you know."

John lifted his head and rubbed his nose, leaning back into me so that the two of us fell into a hug. We stayed there together for a little while, and I hoped that I was making him feel better.

"Clara?" He said.

"Mmm?"

"Could I stay here with you? Only for a little while, I just don't think I can be in that house right now."

I nodded and smiled, "Stay as long as you need. Would you like some breakfast?"

He shook his head no and I understood.

John stayed in my room for a few hours before Mimi came to collect him, saying that he had to get on with it and get used to it. She was always just so warm like that.

My family was invited to the funeral where I stood by John's side as they lowered the casket in. It was very hard to believe that a man whom I had known for so long was just not here anymore all of a sudden. I felt for John, as I knew that his uncle was probably the biggest reason he always came back home after visiting his mum. Nonetheless, things went back to normal after a week or two. But in that time and afterwards I saw a change in John. He was alone far more often than he had been before, and his sarcasm came to be rather cutting. When I say he was alone far more often though, I mean that he would sneak into my room far more often and sit there with me for hours. He had always liked being over here, but had never been such a frequent visitor until now. Sometimes I would walk out for a moment, walk back in, and find him reading over in the corner. It became ordinary to me after a little while.

While John started becoming more and more interested in Rock 'N Roll, he also started becoming more interested in something else: Girls.

One night that summer I heard some noise coming from outside, some soft whispering. I looked out to see John with some girl. They were holding hands and standing in front of Johns home, talking. After a few minutes I saw her give him a peck on the cheek, and him giving her a big hug before she ran across the street and back home.

I was curious, very curious indeed. I got up and opened the small door that led into John's room, getting on my knees to crawl on through. It wasn't often that I did it and doing so made me feel so claustrophobic. But I knew that this was news that I had to hear.

I got in before John did and quickly took a seat on the edge of his bed as I could hear him walking down the hall. I crossed my legs and held my hands over my knee as he entered.

"So who was the lucky lady, Lennon?" I said with a smirk.

John's eyes went wide as he closed his door quickly and walked over to me, "I always knew you were spying on me!" He said. I smiled at him asked again who the girl was.

John walked over to hang his jacket on his chair. "Her name's Beth, she goes to school with you I think. Anyway she's excellent Clara, really great."

"Well aren't you a little too young for a relationship, John?" I said.

"And aren't you up past your bedtime, Clara?" He said, throwing it right back to me as he always did. "Anyway keep your damn voice down. Mimi's not too keen on me having a girlfriend and I'd really like to keep seeing this one."

"You really like her then, don't you?"

He smiled and looked down; I could see a small blush coming on. "She's a real pretty bird for starters Clara, and she's real smart and just a lot of fun." He looked up at me again and ran over to hug me. "But of course she's not as great as my favorite girl."

"And who's that? Mimi?" I said just before dodging a pillow being thrown at me. I sighed and got up from the bed to walk over to the little door in the wall. "Well, I better get to bed now. Congratulations on the girlfriend, Romeo." I smiled at him and crawled inside, hearing the little door close behind me as I began my journey to my room.

John and Beth didn't last long; her parents didn't care for John and Mimi didn't think that she was good enough for him, which was how she was with most people. They made a few attempts at meeting in secret, but it was just too much of a hassle.

Though John was actually sad about it for awhile, it didn't take very long before he had another girl under his arm.

This one's name was Barbara, and she was gorgeous. Tall, blonde, blue eyed, with freckles dashed across her nose and a figure like Brigitte Bardot. John met her around Christmas of '55 and they were soon inseparable. When he first told me that they were going steady I laughed right in his face; Barbara had been the victim of John's teasing for months, and suddenly he wanted to date her? I couldn't believe it, even after John had told me over and over that he thought he was in love with her. When he told me that though, something stung. I couldn't tell exactly what it was but I didn't quite like John saying he loved her. It felt wrong.

I pushed all thoughts to the back of my head when John brought her over to introduce to his mother, Julia. We all had dinner that night while John's sisters Julia and Jackie ran about the house. Barbara seemed nice enough, and most importantly seemed to like John a great deal, (maybe too much) but I still couldn't get passed the feeling that something didn't feel right, yet I kept a smile on all throughout the dinner.

Later that evening Johns mum asked me to go find the two of them and tell John that it was time for dessert and to ask him to help clean the dishes. I looked all around the house and had no luck, until I opened the front door. At first I opened it all the way but almost as soon as I did I closed it again so that it was only open a crack.

Outside John and Barbara were kissing, snogging really. She had her hands around his neck and his hands were… basically everywhere else. I close the door quickly and stood in the hall for a moment. I felt so intrusive, and for some reason so young. I hadn't even had my first kiss yet and there they were macking out as if there were no tomorrow. I felt strange and cursed myself for opening the door. I walked into the kitchen and began helping Johns mum clean up for dessert.

"Where's John?" She said. "He doesn't think he's getting out of washing these dishes does he?"

I cleared my throat before answering, "Him and Barb are sort of busy." I said awkwardly.

Julia raised an eyebrow and slowly went back to work on a hard stain. "Is it the kind of busy that I think it is?"

I nodded and placed some dishes on the rack.

"Well," she sighed as she dried off her hands on her apron, "It happens from time to time. Don't worry Clara, you'll get yours soon enough." She smiled warmly at me and went to place the cake on the table and asked me to arrange the plates.

I decided that I should go out again to ask them to come inside, this time looking out the window before flinging the door open. Now they were just sitting outside, talking about whatever. I took a deep breath before opening the door to get myself in the mood to split up a happy couple.

"Hey, love birds. Desserts ready if you haven't already had enough of each other."

I saw John shoot me a glance that was anything but amused; obviously I had walked in right before another session. I shrugged unapologetically and went back inside, leaving the door open for the two of them. I heard a rather loud smooch behind me and turned around to see that look still plastered onto Johns face.

Dessert was awkward for everyone in the room, except for John it seemed. While Julia and I tried having nice conversations with each other and them John played footsie with Barb, kissed her at the table, among other things. He was mad at me, I could always tell. And it wasn't like he wasn't being obvious about it either. With a look here and there it was very clear that he was trying to get back at me for ruining his 'moment'. Whatever bit of immaturity I felt when I saw them kissing was shadowed by John's stunts at the table.

John and I walked home with Barb as she only lived a short distance from our homes. After we waved her off the smiles went away and John and I were silent. When we got to my house however, John pulled me into the garden. He let go of me as soon as we were far enough so that no one would be able to hear us.

"Ow John, what's that for?"

"For bustin' in on me and Barb," he puffed. "You know damn well what."

I folded my arms across my chest and gave John my best incredulous look. "You can't be serious? After you goofed up dessert with your mum? John that was all you."

"Well you could have been a better friend and have let us have a few minutes you know."

I rolled my eyes, "John, your mum was asking me to come out and get you. I did wait. Until you were done snogging the daylights out of Barb."

At which point I walked away, back into my house, and up into my room. I got into my pajama's quickly and got into bed, very angry but at what I wasn't sure. I didn't know why I was angry at John to be honest and I didn't know why I hated seeing him with Barb as much as I did. But I wanted to know so that I didn't have to feel that way anymore.

Around midnight, I heard a knocking on my wall. I knew exactly who it was and I was not going to answer it. But I got curious after I stopped hearing any knocks. Usually if I didn't answer right away, John would just start pounding on the thing to get my attention.

I crawled out of bed and walked around to see a small piece of paper on the floor. I picked it up and opened it, immediately recognizing John's handwriting. It was a poem, an apology.

_Dear friend of mine,  
don't let this be the end  
Take this and know,  
though my true feelings  
Do not always show  
Love is love  
and it is that which I give you  
My little dove._

_To my not always peaceful dove,  
J.W.L_

I sighed and held my hand to my forehead. This was his way of apologizing, like always. He was so bad at talking about his feelings, but he was so good at writing them down. And he knew that poetry always got to me… and it still got to me.

I found a pencil on my desk and wrote a reply on the back, a short "I'm sorry too," and slid it under the door as he had. Then I got back into bed. But I didn't hear a knock on the wall this time, which meant that there was no new delivery. So, quietly I said,

"Did you get it?"

A moment passed.

"Yeah, apology accepted, I can be a right bastard sometimes!"

And with a yell from Mimi to keep quiet, the night ended peacefully.


End file.
